


Compared to Everything Else

by grandsequel (Yunho)



Category: Infinite (Band), K-pop
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunho/pseuds/grandsequel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're a couple of virgin weirdos, looking to get laid. Well, Sungjong at least is more likely to get some, even if it does come at Hoya's expense. Not that Hoya's jealous in any way. Nope. In other words: Hoya gets to be Sungjong's wingman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compared to Everything Else

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing herein.
> 
> Written 2011 for kpop_olymfics. Based off of [this](http://s1187.photobucket.com/user/kpopolymfics/media/K4ZnAXEKami46n83uLSk2Rpko1_400.jpg.html) prompt.

Hoya wants to have sex. Hot sex. With Girls.  _Girls_ , thank you, with fair sized tits and skinny waists and whitewhitemilky skin that’s softer than a tuft of downy fur. Here’s the deal though. Those kind of girls, while definitely out there, don’t seem to have gotten the memo that there's a very (very  _very_ ) willing, good looking guy wanting to do them. And if they have gotten the memo—well, that’s just depressing for Hoya to think about, that apparently he’s not good enough for them.  
  
Being a 31 year old virgin isn’t that bad. Alright, no scratch that—it  _is_  bad. Worse than bad; it’s downright embarrassing. Almost to the point that Hoya is willing to make up fake exploits and liaisons with female backup dancers just so he doesn’t seem as pathetic as he really is. Juicy Lucy may not be a real girl, but in his fantasies she’s damn perfect and frankly, Hoya’s watched enough porn to make up some pretty believable tales about her flexibility and her gag reflex (or lack thereof).  
  
Even just five years ago such a thing hadn’t bothered him. He was totally fine with being celibate. Then he went to the military, completed his service years, and realized there was a serious gap between the guys and himself because late night discussions were an excuse to talk past girlfriends—more specifically,  _sex_  with past girlfriends. Hoya, who’d always been too busy with Infinite promotions or learning and creating choreos was, to put it nicely, way behind.  
  
And now he’s here, stuck in a crappy, rundown apartment working again as a back up dancer for whatever company will hire him. He’s good enough to make his own choreos and often does. But it’s not like labels are fighting to have him work for their groups. Hoya’s good—just not  _that_  good.  
  
*  
  
It’s Friday and Hoya is stuck at home again doing nothing. After cleaning his kitchen, which he never uses anyway, and collapsing on the couch with a beer in his hand, he settles down to watch reruns of whatever good is on. 7 o’clock slips into 8 o’clock, then 9. It’s 9 o’clock on a Friday night and Hoya is drinking beer and watching a shitty Korean drama instead of out partying.  
  
Tragic is putting it lightly.  
  
Somewhere between a CF for fried chicken and a brief news report, Hoya starts to doze off. Head cradled against his right hand on the sofa arm with his empty beer bottle slipping out of his left hand, he yawns once and is very close to shutting off the TV and heading to bed entirely when he’s startled awake by the door buzzer.  
  
It takes a second to register what it is, it’s actually been that long since he’s had company. With a jerk, his eyes blink owlishly as he stumbles off the couch and shuffles his feet to his door.  
  
“Hello?” he asks tiredly into the intercom. He hears fuzzy static a second before silence. He waits a moment for an answer before cursing mentally at whoever it was who’d stupidly buzzed the wrong room. He’s just about to turn around to go pass out in his bed when he hears the buzzer again.  
  
“What?” he asks sharply into the mic.  
  
Another second of silence before—“Hoya hyung? It’s me—Sungjong.”  
  
*  
  
It’s not Hoya’s fault it takes him a good minute to recognize the name. He knows a lot of Sungjongs. Sort of.  
  
“Sungjong who?” he asks, just in case the Sungjong he’s thinking of isn’t  _the_  Sungjong.  
  
“Sungjong who—?  _Sungjongie_ …You know, Infinite’s Sungjong?” The voice sounds exasperated, probably rightly so, but Hoya hasn’t had company in forever so he’s excused if he doesn’t recognize the name at first.  
  
“Uh—okay I’ll unlock the door for you, I’m in apartment—”  
  
“Don’t worry I know which one,” Sungjong says just before the buzzer cuts off. Hoya doesn’t know whether to be a little freaked out or not.  
  
It doesn’t take long before there’s a knock on the door. Hoya opens it and only belated realizes that oh shit, he’s in his boxers and a crappy undershirt with food stains on it. Only, when the door opens Hoya doesn’t even think about his state of poor dress because he’s too busy looking at Sungjong.  
  
It’s been four years since Hoya’s talked to, let alone actually  _seen_  his old group’s youngest member. Where the years were rough on Hoya, it looks like they were more than nice on Sungjong, who appears to have walked off a high end retail store rack. Dressed smartly in a polo shirt and washed out jeans, ripped at the knees, to say Sungjong looks good is an understatement.  
  
Not that Hoya thinks Sungjong looks good. Hoya’s just recognizing the fact.  
  
“Are you gonna let me in hyung?” Sungjong asks, an amused smile playing at his lips. Hoya realizes then that he’d been staring at Sungjong a little too long. He gulps and nods, stepping aside and letting Sungjong walk past him.  
  
Hoya watches him look around as he walks down the hall toward the living room. There’s not much to see.  
  
“This is…” he pauses and turns around, biting his lip before finishing, “homely?” It’s more a question than a statement.  
  
“Uhm—it’s uh, not the greatest, I know,” Hoya says lamely. “It’s kinda messy.”  
  
“Yeah. So, how’ve you been?”   
  
Hoya follows Sungjong into the living room. The younger boy takes a seat on his couch with no invitation and Hoya can’t find it in himself to comment. “I’ve been alright.”  
  
“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”  
  
“Since we last spoke? Yeah, it’s been forever.”  
  
“I kept telling myself to get in touch with everyone but every time I tried something always came up, you know? If it wasn’t military service it was—I dunno, ‘I’m busy right now we’ll catch up later,’ or ‘Hey let’s meet up at such-and-such bar’ and then never showed. It was frustrating.”  
  
Hoya nods along as Sungjong goes on but in all honesty he can’t really relate. After the group broke apart, they’d all kept in touch for awhile, but, like Sungjong said, one by one they went to complete their military service and when they came back, it was never the same. He knew Sunggyu had gotten married, Woohyun had left the country, Sungyeol was teaching somewhere in Seoul. Myungsoo was still in the scene, taking up modeling jobs where he could. Dongwoo had been the only one to stick by Hoya—together they still perform as back up dancers and occasionally choreograph routines. As for Sungjong, well. He hasn’t seen Sungjong in awhile and they lost touch completely.  
  
Until now at least.  
  
Hoya sighs, blowing hair out of his face as he stares at his friend sitting across from him. The ensuing silence isn’t a bit uncomfortable—it’s really,  _really_  uncomfortable.  
  
Finally, he grits his teeth and steels himself. “Alright, let’s be straight about this Sungjongie. Why are you here?” he asks bluntly.  
  
For his part Sungjong doesn’t even look flustered, as though he’d been expecting Hoya to get to the point sooner rather than later. He smiles brightly, though his eyes remain focused intensely on Hoya’s face as he answers, “I need a favor.”  
  
“What kind of favor?” he asks slowly.  
  
“You know I’m going into the service soon, right?” Hoya nods. “I’m leaving in a few months.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“And before I leave for two years into the unknown and mysterious world of drill sergeants and early morning brutal work outs, there’s a teeny tiny little thing I’d like to do. It’s not gonna be painful, it’s not gonna involve anything dangerous or illegal and it won’t put what little name you have left to your career in any risk.”  
  
“Sungjong…”  
  
“Okay, okay, hear me out before you say no, please?”  
  
Hoya closes his eyes and bites back a groan, though he can’t help slouching in his seat. “Alright, what?”  
  
“I need you to help me get laid.” Silence. “Did you hear me?”  
  
“Not correctly I hope.”   
  
Sungjong laughs, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “I know it may come as a surprise to you hyung, but I’m not the innocent 17 year old from our idol days."   
  
“Jongie—” This time he does groan, his remark met with the sight of his friend waving his hands in front of him and trying to look placating.  
  
“No, no really! I mean, I’m not so… _you know_ ,” he makes another waving motion with his hand, “that I haven’t had sex yet but after the last time I finally came to a realization. Well, not so much a realization as an acceptance. And this is what makes my favor kinda…difficult. Kinda.”  
  
“Kinda.”  
  
He nods his head. “I’ve finally accepted that I can’t hide who I am anymore. Hoya-hyung,” his voice drops pitch, suddenly serious, “I’m gay. And I need you to help me find someone trustworthy I can give my virginity to before I go to the military.  
  
“Oh, and we’ve only got a month before I leave.”  
  
*  
  
Hoya decides it must be some cosmic fucking joke the fates are playing on him because he can’t think of a more insane situation to find himself in if he were to try. Playing wingman for his friend— _gay_  friend, mind you—when he himself has never even gotten any (straight or otherwise)…talk about a slap to the face and a kick to the groin all at once. He comes to the conclusion that one, his life sucks and two, his sex life will never suck, at least not in the way he wishes it would.  
  
When his Friday nights consisted of stale beer and shitty television, his weekends were sad enough. Now here he is, one week since the night Sungjong came waltzing back into his life and announcing he needed his help getting laid, and Hoya wishes he’d never opened his apartment door, never sat down with Sungjong, and never stupidly agreed to help. Quite simply put, Hoya probably needs the help more than Sungjong.  
  
He’s the one driving since his car actually has a working GPS system, unlike Sungjong’s means of transportation—public transportation that is. An hour earlier they’d inputted the address of a popular gay club Sungjong had found on the internet that wasn’t  _too_  far from home. A glance to his side at the GPS screen shows they aren’t far and sure enough, not five minutes pass before he spots the colorful lights and feels the reverberating bass of the club’s music causing his car to tremble.  
  
“You’re okay, right?” Sungjong asks him from the passenger side. Hoya parks the car and switches the engine off, letting them sit in silence on the side of the road for a second, only the club music swelling around them. He looks down at his clothes then gazes over at Sungjong’s attire and hits his head repeatedly against the steering wheel.  
  
“How did you get me to agree, Jongie?” he whines rhetorically. Sungjong just laughs, patting his shoulder lightly in fake sympathy.  
  
“I really do appreciate it hyung. There was no one else I could ask because I couldn’t get a hold of anyone else. And anyone who I could’ve asked…well they don’t know about my sudden change of heart, so to speak and I’d rather not spring it on them like this, so soon before I have to leave.” Hoya nods, forehead still against the steering wheel. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I could…go in by myself or something.” He hears the worry in his voice, suddenly sounding again like the shy, younger boy Hoya remembers him to be.   
  
With a small smile, barely a twitch of his lips, Hoya looks at Sungjong and nods before unlocking the door.  
  
*  
  
“Hi…uh…it’s pretty busy tonight—”  
  
“ _WHAT?! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!_ ”  
  
*  
  
“Uhm, would you like to dance, I have my—”  
  
“ _Sorry, I’m with someone…and we’re together._ ”  
  
*  
  
“Hey, this is my friend Sungjong, we were just…okay yeah, bye, nice talking to you!”  
  
*  
  
“Do you wanna—”   
  
“ _No._ ”  
  
*  
  
“I give up.”  
  
Sungjong doesn’t immediately reply to him as Hoya starts the car, not switching gears to drive but simply sitting there in the quiet car. He feels disgusting. Sweaty and smelly and with glitter and confetti dancing on his clothes and in his hair. All he wants is to go home, take a hot shower, and die on his bed, which he figures is really his only chance of never having to go through this kind of ordeal ever,  _ever_ , again.  
  
“We’re not actually giving up, right?” At Hoya’s groan, Sungjong quickly says, “I mean it’s only the first night! We can still try tomorrow, and maybe head to a bar on Sunday, and then try again Monday, maybe—”  
  
“Stop.” Immediately Sungjong freezes in his seat. “ _We_  are not giving up, no. In fact, ‘we’ no longer exists  _for_  us to give up. I’m going to drive you to your apartment, then I’m going to drive home and we are never going out to try something like this again. You can call me sometime once you find yourself a boyfriend, but Sungjong, I’m out. I tried, I really did Jongie, but this is beyond me. I can barely pick up chicks, let alone go for dicks, so I’m afraid this means you’re on your own.” By this point, Hoya is already on the freeway, making his way to Sungjong’s home like he said.  
  
“Please hyung.” It’s all he says but it’s all he needs to. Hoya feels something inside him crumble at his friend’s small voice.  
  
So they haven’t talked in years and so Sungjong is asking him for something that’s beyond what Hoya is socially comfortable doing. But Sungjong is still his friend and the kid, because no matter what Sungjong will always be a kid to him, is going off to the military in a few short weeks. For a second, Hoya recalls his own service time, shuddering at the painful memories. Admittedly, he doesn’t want Sungjong to find himself in the awkward position Hoya had been in when he’d been in the service, but then again, the military has zero consideration for homosexual relationships, and hadn’t Sungjong already mentioned last week that he has experience with women? That he only wants a relationship, however short lived may it be, with his newly discovered preferred male partner before he has to leave?  
  
Hoya wonders for a second if it’s maybe something close to jealousy, or something equally petty, that’s the real reason he no longer wants to help Sungjong in his quest. Granted Hoya isn’t exactly ecstatic about trying to come on to his own gender, in fact feels downright creeped out and awkward about it, but at the same time he’s matured enough to not let it really shake him up. So it’s not the male-with-male bit that’s got him so against doing this again. It’s more along the lines of—  
  
He just has no idea what he’s doing.  
  
*  
  
Saturday proves to be as successful as Friday, so not very. Those who actually bother talking to Hoya when he approaches them give him lame excuses to escape him seconds into their conversation. Hoya figures they must either know he’s not gay and thus assume he's approaching them as a joke or he’s doing it for someone else and doing such a miserable job of trying to help this someone else out that they associate and extend Hoya’s social awkwardness to Someone Else as well.  
  
Someone Else is not pleased.  
  
They sit at the bar, Sungjong looking glum as he cradles a glass of diet coke in his hands. Hoya has a half empty beer bottle sitting in front of him, making no move to finish it off.  
  
“How is this so hard?” Sungjong asks, sighing audibly as he leans back in his bar seat. It’s quieter at the bar, being secluded off from the main club and the dance floor.   
  
“For you or me?” Hoya asks.  
  
“Both. I mean, aren’t gays supposed to be all about getting it on? Why is it so difficult to find one suitable?”  
  
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you now among those gays ‘all about getting it on?’ And maybe it’s so difficult because  _you’re_  so difficult.”  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, scowling.  
  
“Exactly what I said. I’ve gotten a couple guys to come over to you but all you do is shake your head at them and let them walk away. If you’re gonna be so damn picky, why not just hire a gay prostitute and be done with it?”  
  
Sungjong looks scandalized at the suggestion, one fisted hand pounding angrily on the bar and rattling their glasses. “You’re kidding me, right? Do you really think I’m  _that_  desperate that I’d sink that low?!”  
  
“I don’t know Jongie, you tell me! You’re the one who hunted me down and came to me just to help you get laid! We hadn’t talked in years before you came over, so just try to tell me you weren’t ‘that desperate!’”  
  
“You didn’t have to say yes to helping me!”  
  
“And what should I have said instead? ‘No Sungjong, I’m not going to help you, you’re on your own, so have fun meeting total strangers and trying to have crazy butt sex with them!’”  
  
“Hoya-hyung, I really can’t believe you.” He sounds so self-righteous, so indignant, that for a second Hoya actually sees red.  
  
“You can’t believe  _me_?! I can’t believe you Sungjong. I just. No, forget it. Forget this, forget your plan, and just forget  _this_.” Maybe he’s had half a beer too many but Hoya doesn’t care. He’s been wound up all day and the pointless argument with Sungjong is the proverbial extra drop to overfill the cup. He doesn’t bother with the rest of his beer as he slides off his bar stool and turns to stomp away.  
  
He actually makes it all the way out the club and to the sidewalk before Sungjong catches up to him and grabs his wrist, tugging him back.  
  
“I’m sorry!” he yells in Hoya’s face. The older man takes a step back, cringing at the alcohol in Sungjong’s breath. “Don’t leave me like this,” he says as he lets go of his hold on Hoya’s arm.  
  
He shoves his hands in his jeans’ pockets, biting the inside of his cheek as he stares down at Sungjong’s skinny frame, his shoulder-length soft brown hair. “Why is this so important to you?”  
  
“It just is.”  
  
“A lot of things are important to me too Jongie. Like entering dance competitions and choreographing routines, doing improv'd raps in underground dance clubs. You don’t see me tracking down Myungsoo to get me back into the high end companies, and you don’t see me dragging Dongwoo around the scene trying to make a name for ourselves again. So there’s gotta be more to this than just you wanting lose your virginity before going into the service.”  
  
To Hoya’s surprise, Sungjong averts his gaze to stare down at the cold cement before reaching out and pulling one of Hoya’s hands out of his pocket. The smaller boy cradles Hoya’s larger one between both of his, fingers grazing over the back of his knuckles.   
  
“You’re gonna think I’m weird.”  
  
“I already think you’re weird. In fact I’ve always thought that.”  
  
Hoya can almost imagine Sungjong rolling his eyes at him, but can’t tell whether he does so or not because Sungjong is still avoiding his gaze. He suddenly steps closer, invading Hoya’s personal space entirely. He spares a half hearted thought to the passersby around them, who must think they look a little too intimate to be totally platonic for two guys. Until he realizes that they’re standing outside a gay bar and all the people passing by them are most likely gay themselves and therefore it’s perfectly normal to see something like two guys talking intimately to each other.  
  
Not that he and Sungjong are talking intimately.   
  
“What’s it like?” Sungjong whispers, taking another step closer to him.  
  
“What’s what like?”  
  
“Sex.”  
  
Hoya falls silent, confused as to what Sungjong means. “I’ve never done it with a guy, so I wouldn’t know.”  
  
Sungjong laughs and shakes his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “No, not just gay sex. I mean…just sex in general. With girls. What’s that like?” He’s possibly staring at Hoya’s shoulder. Or maybe staring at his chest. Their fingers perhaps? (When did Hoya’s hand take Sungjong’s in a firm grip, when exactly did their fingers lace?)   
  
“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Hoya evades tactfully.  
  
“You don’t have to be embarrassed to tell me. I’m just curious. I may have lied when I said I have experience with girls.”   
  
 _Well that makes two of us_. “It’s…intense.” He says it more as a question than a statement.  
  
“Like how?”  
  
“Like how—? I can’t explain sex to you Jongie! Not straight sex, definitely not gay sex, and especially not outside a gay bar. And can you take a step back you’re—” He’s cut off by Sungjong’s lips suddenly on his.  
  
It’s not like in romance movies. It’s not even romantic in the least. They barely have a second to savor the soft warmth of each other’s lips before Hoya shoves Sungjong back, maybe a little harder than he’d intended to as Sungjong nearly falls backward.  
  
“What the hell?!”  
  
“Hyung, calm down—”  
  
“No Jongie—what the hell was that?!”  
  
“Me being weird again? Being stupid? Crazy?! Take your pick hyung!”  
  
“ _What_?!” They are, embarrassingly enough, screaming at each other in public and hardly making any sense at that. Hoya has lost his entire grip on the conversation, what Sungjong is talking about, what he himself is trying to say—just everything. It’s all slipping through his fingers like water dripping from the creases of cupped hands and no matter how hard he tries to make sense of what’s going on, he finds himself more and more at a loss.  
  
“Sungjong, I don’t understand what’s going through that head of yours,” he mutters, loud enough for the other to hear. “Why the hell did you just do that?”  
  
“Because I wanted to,” he answers simply.  
  
“That is not a good reason to go around kissing people.”  
  
“How about because I needed to?”  
  
“How the hell did you figure you needed to kiss me?!”  
  
“I figured that because one, you wouldn’t shut up and two, because if it’s been as long as I think it’s been since you’ve had sex, than a kiss, regardless of who it’s from, is probably something that can help to ground you a little. Don’t think so hard on it hyung, it meant nothing. I just did it to calm you down.”  
  
Taking a deep breath, Hoya steps back once to put more distance between them. The more space there is between them, the easier it is for him to think.  
  
“How long do you think it’s been since I’ve had sex?” he asks and what the hell is that question, because he certainly hadn’t meant to ask it.  
  
“Never is a long time.”  
  
“I’ve had sex!”  
  
“I have it on good authority that your right hand doesn’t count—neither does your left,” he added as Hoya opens his mouth to say something. “Hyung?”  
  
“What?” He begins walking down the sidewalk, wondering to himself how Sungjong was able to correctly figure out his lack of sexual exploits. He doesn't worry whether Sungjong is behind him or not because he knows Sungjong will follow him back to the car now that the worst of their ‘argument’ seems to have passed.  
  
“I’m sorry for kissing you. I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward or uncomfortable.”  
  
“I don’t feel awkward or uncomfortable,” he replies, feeling increasingly awkward and uncomfortable with how close Sungjong is walking beside him to the car.  
  
“Do you feel weird?”  
  
“Very weird,” he admits.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because if someone had told me last week before you came over that I would at some point be meeting you again and have you confess that you’re gay and that you need me to help you find someone to lose your virginity to  _and_  that you would kiss me outside a gay bar, I would have slapped that person with my fist and shoved my foot up their ass like the figurative broom handle.”  
  
“So you feel weird because of the sort-of spontaneity of our situation?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Suddenly Sungjong grabs him around the arm, wrapping his hands around Hoya’s bicep. “I feel weird for exactly the same reason. And this is why I’m glad you’re going to help me finally lose my virginity to someone. You  _are_  still gonna help me, right?” he asks after a hesitant pause.  
  
With a sigh, Hoya nods his head, looking straight ahead of him. “Our brands of weird are pretty compatible I suppose,” he says, shaking off Sungjong’s hold and tentatively sliding his arm around his shoulder. “You bring the spontaneity and I try to avoid it.”  
  
“You should try a little harder. Maybe you’d have some luck finding me someone normal to give my first time to then.”  
  
“Yeah,” Hoya agrees. “Maybe.” Sungjong spends the rest of the walk back to the car discussing where else they can try next to find someone for him. As they buckle up in the car and prepare to head home, Hoya can’t help but look at their situation with a cynical eye.  _A pair of virgin weirdos,_  he thinks to himself. He almost considers telling Sungjong to forget their ‘plans’ for Sunday afternoon at the poolhall but an idea comes to him, one he wishes he’d thought of sooner, because it would more than repay all the agony and humiliation Hoya’s gone through these past two days at Sungjong’s request. Having Sungjong as his own wingman could definitely help him score some with the ladies after this is all said and done, because Hoya still  _really_  wants to have sex. Hot sex. With Girls.  
  
And that’s not weird at all compared to all the other things.

**END**


End file.
